"yucky" poems
Well I'm here .... It's grose and ***** ....
My job is crystal clear!!!
I need to get this place back in shape...
I can't believe they live like this...
Like they're in the jungle living like some ape !!
I can't stand dirt and clutter and yucky grose walls....
I'm a germaphobe and cleanliness calls!!
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
They say two birds in a bush
is better than one in hand.
Here’s the simple logic.
just so you understand…
Bird **** is, if you don’t know,
a yucky, gooey stink.
That’s why better in a bush…
don’t you really think?
Let them **** in bushes
that are very far away.
In a hand - is not that grand..
That’s all I have to say.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 10:45 AM UTC
Yucky Chucky Tucker
Yucky Chucky Tucker was smelly as can be,
he never took a bath and hardly ever brushed his teeth.
Everywhere he went he left an odor in the air,
and Yucky Chucky Tucker never combed his hair.
His hands were always ***** cause he played with stinky worms,
he never cared if he got sick, he wasn't afraid of germs.
He didn't have a lot of friends except for one or two,
till Yucky Chucky Tucker met little Linda Sue.
Linda was quite pretty, an awesome sight to admire
and Yucky Chucky Tucker would give anything to sit by her.
But he'd have to make some changes and what I mean by that,
Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to take a bath.
He'd have to wash his hands and scrub his ***** face,
and to clean his stained up yellow teeth would take a tube of paste.
He'd have to wash his hair at least a dozen times,
to remove the terrible build up of sticky greasy grime.
Then Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to change his clothes,
sprinkle on cologne and find a bright red rose.
And maybe if he's lucky little Linda Sue,
might take another look at him and think he's really cute.
Funny how a pretty girl can change the way you think,
cause even Yucky Chucky Tucker washed away his stink,
All to catch the eye of little Linda Sue,
besides, her daddy owned a toy store, now what's a boy to do?
Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
What's happening to all of us? The so-called generation of tomorrow?
Don't you remember how we used to be?
Before we all grew up, swearing that when we're "big" we're never going to smoke or drink?
That boys were yucky and girls had Germs?
Remember how carefree we all used to be? It didn't matter to us what people said or even what they thought. We didn't care if our hair got wet or a stain got on to our clothes.
Now we've turned everything around, never meaning the words that we said. Its as if every memory of who we were, has shattered, into tiny bits of pieces.
Remember the dreams we had when we were young? The morals and virtues we swore we'd never rid of, holding on to these for dear life, yes still we threw them away.
The people we are, the children we used to be, now a totally new adolescent. A conjunction of minuscule parts of both our past and present.
Remember the days we all were friends, no backstabbing, no lies, and complete honestly.
Sharing the humour, not hiding the facts, lived life freely, what happened to us? What happened to the people we used to be?
The all grew up that's what happened I guess, but now barely recognisable. The little child still somewhere deep in the interior of the hard outside we've formed.
Making ourselves to seem like we're stubborn, matured adults, when that's really what we're not.
We're a mixture of what we all used to be and a huge part made up of what we've been through.
All our experiences, both good and bad. All our dreams, some nourished since we were young, and others newly spurted. Our decisions to give in to peer pressure, or resist temptation. Our choices. Our friends, the ones that uplift is and the ones that have torn us down. Our family, the ones who loved us and the ones who have hurt us. Our education, tons of learning experiences. Our relationships, that all formed our inner beings more intricate than all of the above. Our emotions leading us and misleading us to where we might or might not end up . Look, i'm not saying all these things determine where we end up but they sure do influence it.
And that's what happened to us.
That is what we've become and that's what we are. That's made up all the parts of who we really are.
What's happened to us, I repeatedly ask , though the answer, it seems so clear.
Hard to accept, what we've become and who we strive to be.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
Three-legged spider on a ***** tile
Eyeball rolls, clean in hand
Massive metal door opens, up top a hill
Graveyard of ever-ringing cells.
What's real creepy to you?
Enclose the city, lock us out ..for good
Condemned as doomed, living dead
Big guns survive in metallic domes
See the crass ******** shoot us down!
Wanna talk about what's creepy, huh?
Plunderers now lay down new laws
Can't fight the sick, red sway
Random acts of violence bay
Armoured eyes see all from lofty towers.
Creepy autocrats hide the truth, right?
No soaring when blood runs rivers
Tripping over rotting corpses
Decaying stench of hope dying
Help will come, we must believe!
Do you believe lies to your face?
Infrastructure's down, no services
Power's out, no more flushing
Car carcasses aflame on every corner, yet
How come big brother's eyes still move?
Are the gullible ones really stupid and feeble?
Sun shines, but nothing grows
Rain seeps red away into sewers
Crops of twisted metal, hoards of guns
Skeletal trees adorn our landscape.
Why hold askance your glance skyward?
The gates will open to let us in
Surely, they witness our hardship!
There must exist a life beyond this strife
Uproar, bombard, gas, artillery....then no more....
Can you ever cease to have temerity?
In face of adversity, calamity and injustice
We should NEVER cease to be exasperated!
Hope must prevail; faith must live;
Thoughts expressed; love and respect must survive.
Can you afford your spirit just to let go....?
Think about it. Creepy autocrats eternally rank ...
Chronically..........Insidious
Repressively........Deleterious
Egotistically.........Inadequate
Eruptively............Odious
Pretentiously.......Tedious
Yucky...................Scum!
S T, 31 May 2013
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
Always it does,
But I can't shiver,
Coldest in the river,
Deathly river of tears,
Excruciating is the pain,
Filthy salty water it flows,
Grandiose in society kills me,
Hefty personal problems prey,
I can't swallow so I don't eat any,
****** of ego I turn into since long,
Killed me multiple times in a go daily,
Lovelorn I die each moment I try to cry,
Mouthful of unfriendly words help me die,
Name of mine means incomparable literally,
Ostensible concept of love entices me so much,
Put me in a jail and stuff me behind the bars now,
Quailing me is the loneliness that has been forever,
Ruling out few occasions of company I stay so aloof,
Sparing some days of happiness most are depressing,
Toying with my own heart I feel my heart is hydrogen,
Unattractive it is not & it could not stay segregated ever,
Volumes of my voice have died out & so has my hearing,
Wailing deep in my heart I let this sorrow seep in to sink,
Xenophobic I ain't but of course I dislike enemies of love,
Yucky thoughts of people assassinated my love last night,
Zeroed in on the catalyst -strange enough- she herself is it.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
Rubber duck, rubber ducky
You stay with me,
Even when the water's yucky.
Rubber duck, rubber ducky
your yellow skin bumps, and rubs me.
Mr. Duck, Mr. Hug me
You speak, more than a squeak, saying
"The waters calming, not alarming"
Rubber duck, rubber ducky
Stay with me. Even when the water turns ******
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
My doctor says that I'm too fat
He never stops his barking
He may be right at the end of the day
But despite it all I'm starving
I have a hole inside me
I used to quell with spirits
I stopped but they still haunt me
They'll **** me, so I fear it
******* used to cure this all
but no one could keep up
then one day I felt all yucky
abandoned all pursuits of "love"
I had a year way back when
Where all I did was party
I stuck weird things up my nose
But I ran out of money
When I was a teenager
my dad called me a *****
I got upset and cut myself
but quickly I grew bored
I drove fast around tight corners
to feel the breeze on warm damp nights
but today behind a wheel
I feel paralyzed
My doctor says to stab myself
so I don't eat too much
maybe if I'm smaller
I won't cringe when I am touched
But even as I sit here
and to food I feel averse
I know deep down inside myself
I'll always have this curse
I wonder what I'll crave now
these meds they make me sick
maybe just attention
will be how I get my kicks
I was once the right shape
it wasn't long ago
and even then I noticed
how people come and go
Will I ever feel full
to the wind I'm *******
I take up all this space
and still there's something missing
Aug 9, 2023
Aug 9, 2023 at 12:50 AM UTC
Consider a drip,
Falling from a faucet.
An effortless glide to the sink,
Plunging into the drain.
Twisting,
Turning,
Tumbling.
A skydiver’s free fall,
With out his chute.
A direct flight,
And then – the curve,
Hard,
Full,
Yucky,
Ding – **** “ It’s the plumber he’s come to fix the sink.”
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
I.
Blurry green and brown shapes rush past me
at the speed of light, i spin around and around.
Trees, people and playground equipment blend together
in a whirlwind, i am spinning around so fast
i think i might die.
My small hands grip the edges of the black rubber tire.
i squeeze my eyes shut,
thinking that might make the dizziness stop
but it only makes it worse. Pain enters
my fingertips - my arms are ripping apart.
Still, i hold on. i’m afraid
that if i let go my head will hit the ground and my neck will snap.
i hear my brother’s laughter swirling around my head.
i want to beg him to stop the spinning
but i know that crying and pleading only makes this game last longer.
When i asked him to play this wasn’t what i had in mind.
So i wait quietly.
This will all be over soon.
II.
Darkness is all around me.
The one tiny hole near the lid of the toy box allows
only a sliver of light into my little wooden prison.
i run my fingers along the dark walls
beside me and all around me, feeling
the grains of the unfinished wood.
My finger catches a sliver and it stings
but i don’t cry because
crying only makes this game last longer.
The old toy box groans under the weight of my brother’s body.
i can hear his fingers mashing the Nintendo controller
and his feet kicking against the outside of the box.
When i asked him to play, this wasn’t what i had in mind.
If i wait quietly, he will eventually get bored
and this will all be over soon.
III.
The grass is wet and yucky underneath
my body, cold and slimy.
Rows of houses watch in judgement
against black suburban sky,
their inhabitants fast asleep and safe in their beds
while i lie here with this strange man’s ***** hands around my neck.
How did i get here? A few too many rounds
of vodka-fueled drinking games,
each sip burning up a piece of my awareness
until all i can comprehend is his heavy body
on top of me, his cold, unfamiliar eyes.
When i asked him to play, this wasn’t what i had in mind.
Each time my ragdoll head smacks the ground,
the sickening sound bounces between my eardrums.
He could easily ragdoll me to death.
i pray someone will step outside and end this game,
but screaming will only make him panic,
and wild animals can be unpredictable when cornered.
So i wait quietly and hope
this will all be over soon.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
dark clouds fill the sweet summer sky while i continue
to wonder why the grounds have been pummeled
with water for days now
my mind yearns to sit out on the warm grassy ground; i
want to feel the earth below me spin deep deep down
where the rocks are born
i decide to bore something of my own
out of boredom out of desire
because ive been awake for less than an hour
the weather is discouraging and i want sleep
alas! a day would go wasted and around these parts
within my heart
i cannot let that happen!
excited as i am also impatient my liquid like child
takes a minute
in the minute, maybe two realization sets in
where is everybody?
alone as i am also cold my loneliness surely soon
will also grow old. as did my minute
it passed and my excitement grows into
satisfaction
the ground up and watered down soul
of the coffee bean
oh what a wonderful thing! it fills me up greatly
and causes me to empty, unfortunately, more than occasionally
but my spirits are high! my energy, higher
and i can't find anything to do
my veins scream for heightened blood pressure,
a faster heart beat
the jitters have taken over, my feet remain cold
alas still, time just grows older and older
yearning to be filled with actions and words
sunshine and warmth
but i have been robbed
the dark clouds in the sky are threatening.
intimidating.
i can hear the army of H two OH gathering for attack
upon the earth below
do you think they're laughing? surely they know
what sadness they cause on a day that should be beautiful
on a day where our father sun wants to show us his love
right? surely, they know.
*ode to coffee
on a mucky yucky day
an entrapment of a sort. Lovely, to say the least*
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
Cockroach, Cockroach , what are you doing in my soup,
In the kitchen I was playing hoop la hoop,
And I fell in you soup mister,
It's hot and I am getting blisters,
Scoop me with your spoon,
Before I swoon.
Please don't shout or scream,
I will be thrown out of the kitchen of my dream,
Filthy and messy,
With rotten fish, slimy and smelly,
Red meat in blood,
And fungi on sauces and salads with mould,
Never scrubbed,the kitchen,
For thousands of us it's heaven.
Be a pal,
Go away with your gal,
At least I did you a favour,
Not eating in this yucky place forever.
25/6/2019
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 5:43 AM UTC
we know if you're dead what a hassle it can be getting a move on
out of that coffin let zippy-monitoring-service do that regular shopping
for birthdays, anniversaries, christmas, graduation gifts that
you keep putting off- got mold? that's no problem for zippy,
we do a biannual spray for mold and fungus you know that awful
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no more worries call zippy's-fungus-r-us and forget your worries
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no more tears with zippy's wirefree intercom service we'll put microphones
through your loved ones communication interfaces and you can hear
what's going on 24/7 no matter how distant or spaced out they are,
even if they never darken your graveyard again, you'll be in-the-know and
never miss another important moment again, because we know how precious
those moments are when you're coffin-bound drainage issues? no more sweating
it, zippy ground pumping service has the hose size that's just right, inserted
quickly into the liner monthly to ensure all that yucky-mucky gets pumped away,
leaving you high and dry and you'll see that life and death only get easier with zippy,
yes that's ZIPPY, dial your local code + zippy and experience instant relief today
no matter what the problem don't worry, just call zippy and be happy;
wonderful feeling, wonderful day!..
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 9:39 AM UTC
I am a coffee mug,
Earthy, clayey, rotund and pouty.
I feel loved, embraced and wanted by you most times, other times I wonder.
I would rather be in your hands, kissing your lips and at least by your side in the outdoors or by the soft yellow light by your bedside where you linger with me and the brew lost in your thoughts or a beautiful book.
I live in harmony with your favourite blue wooden tray- my carriage, the small silver spoon- to stir up a storm and create music in me, and that cane worn out coaster that fits my round ample bottoms so well.
I dream of holding magical coffee brews from lands close and far, dark.
Robust, wholesome that would make you moan in delight.
I sometimes dread that you read too much in wellness and what if you get influenced to drink less of coffee and fill me up with some detox potion, oh I worry about that so!
I am so majestic, grand and covetable and you love me so, so many options you have,
but to me is always where you go.
I stay awake humming while you sleep, in the morning I pour love into my crevices to welcome the brew just right for you.
The best thing I have done is to never give up on you but I just reciprocate what you do too💕
I sometimes carried brews so yucky for you,
Despite your love, I feel guilty of needing constant validation from you.
My favourite time is bringing in the dawn together with you or watching the rain while you lovingly caress me watching the pitter patter of raindrops on your windowsill.
The point of my life is to spread joy and give lovingly and empty myself for you.
I would like to be remembered as your forever favourite, giving, loving, being held till my last crack and then you make me into art to lie by your bedside as your favourite coaster to welcome the new one
but I will be your forever one☕️
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 10:42 AM UTC
for Beau
this mixte bag of nutty facts,
compote of this's and that's,
fragrant but yucky tasting potpourri,
sordid assortment of
seemingly unseemly
random collection of
facts, whoppers,
recipes and formulae, and his 'n her
stories (my fav!)
useless motorized drivel,
running around my head
that you have with me creme-filled,
data conglomerated,
transformed by mongol hordes of grey cells
urged on, nay transformed,
by **** and beer into
a magnificent miscellaneous mile of jumble,
virtuous and verifiable grab bag of
ever so humble,
tuneful melodies of a medley of
snatches and patches
of Jagger and Liszt,
a verifiable pastiche of
vital and downright dumb
Factors and Factoids,
I thank you suchly muchly
musta taken years, maybe even
decades to collect and codify,
this assemblage of verifiable factoids,
after-all, took you twelve to
feed me in eye dropper ingestible quantities!
though with Wiki this and Wiki that,
I coulda save us all some time,
and since it is all on the Internet,
and any way 99% I forgot
like a cell phone number
no matter, I can reads and counts
and writes term papers downloaded,
but caught my eye you wrote
of a mutton stew denominated as
hotchpotch,
but we variant truants,
ici, aux Etats-Unis, on dit
and spell our salmagundi as
hodgepodge
but in summary summation,
thanks for teaching me creative thinking,
for without this skill,
I would but be,
a tool
of Wikipedia
and not its creator
P.S. It's gadzooks,
not gad zooks,
according to Wikitionary,
even them Oxford fellas agree,
tee hee,
you could look it up
on the internetsky,
Teach....
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
(To the tune of the 12 Days of Christmas) *
On the first day of Christmas my mommy made me
A batch of my favorite cookies
On the second day of Christmas my mommy made me
Two apple pies
On the third day of Christmas my mommy made me
Three basted turkeys
On the fourth day of Christmas my mommy made me
Four deviled eggs
On the fifth day of Christmas my mommy made me
Five pumpkin pies!!!
On the sixth day of Christmas my mommy made me
Six honey hams
On the seventh day of Christmas my mommy made me
Seven gooey brownies
On the eighth day of Christmas my mommy made me
Eight malted milkshakes
On the ninth day of Christmas my mommy made me
Nine banana muffins
On the tenth day of Christmas my mommy made me
Ten yucky yams
On the eleventh day of Christmas my mommy made me
Eleven pickled peppers
On the twelfth day of Christmas my mommy made me
Twelve ears of corn
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC
Everytime I hear No, its always .......MY FAULT
As the Brain drags me down this train of illogic
Anxiety Loops in unending Circles Spun to the Tragic
What can go wrong, then to feel like.......
*Life has ***** me, And why is it always my Fault*
The FIST FLEW out of Nowhere, Sucker punched
Slow motion falling as a..........
Childs head bounces off the ground
Awaking to throbbing Pain,
My Pants around my Knees,
And why is it always my Fault..
For those who know what I mean
Others can't know what we've seen
Even if Its both Bad and Yucky
Childhood is for the lucky..........JMF 9/28/14
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Mama said be careful
Don’t talk to strangers
And don’t walk alone
Mama said to sit up straight
Keep your elbows off the table
And lock the doors when you get home
Mama said be patient
Be polite
Be a lady
Mama said not to sit on the grass
Not to stay in the sun
And go out only if it’s shady
Mama said be a good girl
But this good girl’s got to roam
This girl’s gotta spread her wings
And fly away from her home
Mama said a lot of things
Of this I know is true
But mama never said nothin’
‘Bout stayin away from you
Mama never said you’d hurt me
Or do me so wrong
She never told of your sweet kisses
Or the sadness you’d put in my song
Mama said that boys lie
But you were different; you were a man
Mama should have told me
“Girl, run as fast as you can!”
Mama didn’t tell me
But Ima tell mine
That men like you are icky, yucky things
And ain’t no better than swine
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
Tonight the very notion that steals my mental devotion, is that chance play a motion in that commotion concerning whether one receives a demotion or a promotion
To be lucky or unlucky! It must feel a little yucky, perhaps a bit sucky, that your ability to forsee outcomes is a tad mucky
You might play your hand and find your decision be grand, or life may demand that you be reprimand, where things may not go as planned as you receive a backhand
Hell you may just strike gold, where you luck begins to unfold, where your wealth was withhold, it may just so happen you behold your gold increase eightfold!
People like to be upset due to all the others they've met who don't seem to sweat and carry no debt, people who fret thinking they deserve a corvette or a big shiny jet that they'll get when they win the grand luck roulette.
Still I think that it shows that even if life blows, when the sky fills with crows and your luck seems to have froze, luck is just a fact of life that nobody knows
With the good comes the bad, with the happy the sad, with the boring the rad, that luck is quite a fad
Just know that whether you're hung out to dry or live in Versailles, whether you hit the bulls-eye or things go awry, have everything money can buy or just barely scrape by, you just can't deny your life is at the mercy of life's invisible die
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
The guy at the diner failed to mustard Jake's hot dog
As he was eating it he felt as cold as a marsh frog
Yucky was the flavor without condiment
Chomping it down, a tasteless torment
As the fries on his plate were doing the backstroke
Having a jolly swim day in a puddle of oil
Asked for industrial towels to wipe up the slick
Before it caught wind of the Environmentalists
A complaint has been filed about their bill of fare
Nothing served over the counter would we wish to share
Placards will be shown over the Diner's facade
Warning customers of this ecological disregard
They won't water down their words like the Diner their drinks
Before you enter in you'll stop and think
About the Blue Plate Special with Salmonella on the side
Do you prefer your Botulism broiled or would you like it fried
Gastronomic delights such as they will make you pay
A stint in the infirmary is sure to come your way
With a tossed salad of pain, relievers, and antibiotics
Which none of the above will be deliciously exotic
If you can take the cooks looks and stomach the smells
Along with the service that's slower than snails
There's normally a coupon in the daily mail
Buy one get one free!
Ahhhh.....what the hell
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC
Can you imagine?
The time when being ask
To stay after school
To clean the chalkboards
And erasers was fun.
Can you imagine?
Waiting for the teacher
To pick you to
Take papers to the principle.
Yes, that was special.
And i never thought to peek.
Can you imagine?
Learning to do the waltz
And the foxtrot in gym?
Boys on one side of gym
And girls on the other.
Pick a partner...
No, no, boys are yucky.
That was grade school
When they really were.
I can't imagine not growing up
In the 40/50's
With kick the can,
Home made circuses
And running down to a friends house
And calling,
Can you come out to play?
I can't imagine not having a memory.
By judy
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 5:30 AM UTC